A Coincidence You Should Avoid
by TheDanni0608
Summary: When Sherlock was called in for an investigation, he noticed something the others didn't. It only got stranger when the same type of death happened continuously, only the forth time with two unexpected arrivals. And what do the words 'blue box' mean?
1. Died From Drowning

**This fan fiction is all my imagination of what would happen if The Doctor and Sherlock had to 'team up' as such. I put the characters as Eleven and Sherlock but I was limited, only being able to choose two characters for this fic when it will contain quite a lot of other characters that you see in Doctor Who and Sherlock. **

_A coincidence you should avoid_

"I think we're going to need Sherlock for this," John admitted croakily as he looked over the woman's body fragile body. He attempted to swallow the lump in his throat as he stood from his crouched position. He closed his eyes in sorrow as he let go of the bath tub, the only thing that had managed to keep his knees from shaking and making him fall. John had seen many deaths. He has seen deaths that were _so_ brutal, suffocation, stabbed, hung, or deaths of a civilian. They scarred him, every single witnessed death. Whenever he closed his eyes the image of the beaten up bodies would crawl their way into his mind. He's never forgotten a patient; he remembered them all like they were seconds before. But this death. He breathed in deeply, trying to control his emotions. This death was not violent, nor was it a pleasant death either. John shook his head as he trudged towards the door, leaving the crime scene. As soon as the image of the woman was no longer in site, John automatically felt the rush of mystery run through his veins. Everybody was rushing everywhere, men in full blue suits and rubber gloves inspected the wardrobes, taking out anything that could be used as evidence. He saw Lestrade at the other end of the room, from what John could see he was interviewing the victim's husband. John gulped. The husband was the first person to find the woman dead in the bath tub. John continued to walk forward until he was face to face with a non to happy Lestrade. The husband walked away, not saying a word. John thought he was probably just in shock.

"John," he exclaimed with bright eyes, John nodded to him with a faint smile. "We've called Sherlock, said he would come by in a few minutes. Apparently we're all a pile of bumbling idiots," he laughed falsely. John gave him a confused look. "This investigation was meant to be a 'five', according to Sherlock's 'death scale', whatever that means," Lestrade explained with fake quotation marks.

"Yes well," John turned around to look at the door which contained the corpse. "That's definitely an eight at least," he confessed. He turned back to look at Lestrade, "there's no signs of any physical contact and the door was locked. Seems like a suicide to me." Lestrade sighed,

"Let's just wait and see what Sherlock says first, for all we know he could find out the woman's favourite colour just by her position," he joked as he made his way to a pile of papers that were laid across a desk. John didn't say anything at first, he just watched Lestrade flick through the different forms in his hands. John coughed,

"What did the husband say?" John asked as he took a seat on a corner table. Lestrade furrowed his eye brows at something on one of the pages, he shook his head,

"Not much to go on really. Just the fact he found his wife in the bath tub when he got back. Not really a pleasant thing to be welcomed to but…"

"What time was this?" John questioned.

"Forensics are onto that now, but from what we've gathered this looks like a suicide. The doors were all locked, and there's no chance of anyone getting in from the window," he replied as he pointed his head to the window. John got up and walked over. "We're on the fifty eighth floor, there's no chance anybody could have gotten up here," he acknowledged. John opened the window and poked his head outside, even from so high up he could hear the sounds of the busy city which buzzed below. John nodded in agreement as he closed the window again.

"Anderson please keep your face at least thirty eight inches away from mine, it's already distracting to look enough, you don't want me to die of blindness now do you." John smirked as soon as he heard the familiar voice.

"Looks like Sherlock's here then," Lestrade responded as he got up from his chair and threw the pieces of paper back onto the desk.

"Lestrade I need everybody out of this room immediately, you do realise how low the IQ of the room has become," Sherlock ordered as he made his way into the bathroom. John rolled his eyes as he followed him into the crime scene. John heard Lestrade sigh in frustration behind him as he hurried everyone out of the room. As soon as John walked into the room he was already met with a babbling man in a black long coat saying different theories out loud.

"I have eight- no six- different ways, agh, _four_ different ways in which she was murdered," Sherlock informed John. John furrowed his eye brows,

"She was murdered?" John raised the question in curiosity and disbelief. Sherlock flung up from his position and pointed to the bath tap, the letter _H_ fancily written atop, indicating hot water.

"John _look_ at the tap, it hasn't even being touched," he moved back quickly to the tap and inspected it with a tiny magnifying glass which he retrieved from his inner pocket. John opened his eyes in shock and moved forward to look at the tap himself. He was right, it hadn't been touched. There were no smudges or any finger prints to prove otherwise. Sherlock shuffled to his right to get a different view. "She was going out."

"Out?" John repeated in confusion.

"Yes, John, out. Somewhere fancy be the looks over the manicure," he admitted as he lifted the woman's hand for John to see. "She must have had those done three to four hours before she died." He continued to observe, he swiftly moved around the other side of the bath tub. "John pass me your torch," he called out as he waved his hand in his direction. John woke up from his daze and rushed through his coat pocket.

"Where's yours?" He asked as he handed him the torch. Sherlock nodded in thanks as he took it off him and shone it in the woman's left eye.

"Left it with Mrs Hudson," he replied as he inspected the eye, "I'm doing an experiment."

"Remind me to get an 'I apologise cake' for Mrs Hudson…" John muttered under his breath. Sherlock spun around and looked at John with that all so familiar smirk.

"This woman died from drowning, if you look at her eyes they are dull and grey and still a bit dilated. What ever happened to her shocked her, she wasn't expecting it. So is she did commit suicide then why was so shocked in the process, because there was somebody else here." Sherlock explained within seconds as he looked around the room and opened cupboards that were on the walls and looked under the matt on the carpet. John processed this information,

"So where'd the killer go, the door was locked and the window was sealed shut," John asked as he to looked around the room for more clues.

"I don't know. Oh, isn't this getting rather exciting," he admitted with glee.

"Sherlock!" John and Sherlock heard from inside the other room. Sherlock's head snapped up immediately as he marched his way through the door, John soon followed behind.

"Anderson found this in her coat pocket," Lestrade informed him as he handed The Doctor a piece of paper. Sherlock snatched it from his hand, shone it up into the light, to see if there were any hidden messages…Which there wasn't. He looked at the letter sceptically, turning it around and upside down to see anything specific. He turned it back to the normal position.

"What does it say?" John asked as he leaned back against the wall. Sherlock coughed, clearing his throat.

"Be dearest beloved, I'm sorry. I'm truly, truly sorry," Sherlock read off the paper, he turned it back round again. "What that's it?" He pointed out rudely, he handed back to Lestrade.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, but I'm going to have to close this case, just looks like a suicide," Lestrade informed him, knowing Sherlock won't be very happy. Sherlock spun around,

"Wha- What? No. This isn't suicide, look at the signs," he said quickly.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, but this case is closed." Lestrade turned around to his co-workers. "Okay everyone, let's wrap up," Lestrade announced as he walked past Sherlock. He turned around before he left. "Sorry, Sherlock."

"Right, so, where to next sexy?" The Doctor asked his beloved ship as he crawled up from under the controls. "How about Earth nineteen fifties, eh?" He questioned the ship with a smile. The ship hummed underneath him, which sent vibrations through his body, he felt comforted by the feeling. The Doctor's eyes widened as soon as he realised, "Nope, nope, definitely not going there now. Marilyn would kill me." He confessed as he loosened his collar and jumped up from his position.

"And why's that sweetie?" The Doctor jumped a mile; he turned around sonic at the ready. He face softened once he saw who the intruder was. "And hello to you to," River mocked as she looked at the object pointed at her face. The Doctor lowered the sonic a bit embarrassed. The Doctor coughed awkwardly,

"Nobody, nobody…." The Doctor muttered as he tried to change the subject. River placed her hands on her hips on raised her eye brows. The Doctor gulped. '_This woman, why was she so intimidating?'_ The Doctor thought to himself as he moved around the other side of the TARDIS, trying to avoid eye contact, but River followed him round. He sighed in annoyance, "fine, fine. I suggested going down to Earth, y'know, travelling and all that. But then the TARDIS reminded me…" He finished off in a mumble as he lowered his head to the floor. River put her finger under his chin and lifted his face to see hers. She was smiling that smile.

"Reminded me…" River copied his words as she looked at him with beatific expression. The Doctor awkwardly scratched his head,

"That Marilyn Monroe is there and that I accidentally got engaged to her sort of," he babbled out really quickly in the hope that she wouldn't of heard. Oh, but she did.

"Oh," was her only response. The Doctor's head pulled back a bit; he didn't expect such a vague response. He knows that River will be someone he trusts completely in the future, she even knows his name, but for her not to show any emotion, except from the tiniest hint of sadness was a bit shocking to The Doctor. River looked up at him again, "when are we for you?" She asked in a silvery tone. For that split second the Doctor was too distracted by her hair, it was so fluffy and gorgeous, the Doctor's cheeks reddened once he realised River had asked him a question which he hadn't listened to.

"Urr, I, um…" Were the only words to spill from his mouth, River looked at him confusingly and rolled her eyes.

"Doctor, I asked you where you are in our time lines." She repeated the question again, and then suddenly the colour drained from her skin. "Yo-You do know who I am don't you?" She asked quietly, her muscled had tensed up and she bit into her inner cheek. The Doctor could tell how nervous she was of his answer, it made him feel horrible inside. He tried to push that away so he bopped her on the nose,

"Of course I know you, Mrs Robinson." He admitted with a big grin, he swore he heard her sigh in relief when he turned around. He flipped switches and pressed random buttons as he walked around the TARDIS console. "And as for your question, I've just done America," he admitted as he jumped onto the console chair. River walked around to meet his gaze, on the inside she was quite sad, his not her Doctor. Of course his _the_ Doctor but not _her_ Doctor. But then she thought about it, a younger version of him, she was going to enjoy that. She walked around the console, swaying her hips more than what needed, and she could see the Doctor noticed. His pupils dilated and his fists clenched just that tiny bit, she loved the control she had over him.

"So you don't know me yet?" She pointed out with a mischievous grin. The Doctor gulped,

"Of course I do, you're River Song," he replied, totally confused. River's smile faltered at that ever so slightly. The Doctor saw that slight change and decided to lighten the mood; he jumped up from his seat and was standing literally inches away from her. "So, River Song, where do you want to go?" He asked with a smile.

"Surprise me sweetie." And with that they were off…

**This plan develops further, so don't worry. I hope you're liking it so far, tell me in a review if I've got the character right please or if you've anything to say. Thank you.**


	2. Sherlock Hated Sundays

Sherlock was bored. There wasn't a single case that took to interest. Ever since Lestrade closed of the murder enquiry, which Sherlock fully argued against as he was convinced it _was_ murder not suicide. It was a Sunday; Sherlock hated Sundays, always the dullest day of the week. He had already played his violin, he even composed his own song, but it wasn't enough to entertain him. He was in the right frame of mind to collect the gun that John secretly thought he had hid away from him, Sherlock chuckled to himself, only took him a matter a minutes to find where he hid the thing. However, apparently the next door neighbours, the very popular café- Speedy's, apparently don't really appreciate loud gun shots be heard while customers try to eat. How boring. And to make Sherlock's life put into even more misery, it was quiet. So quiet that he could imagine he could hear Anderson complain about him at work while he was sat there, fed up and waiting for entertainment, on that springy red sofa his was very familiar with. He got up from his lazy position, placed his hands together in front of his face and closed his eyes. Even though the room was so quiet he could still pick up the little noises that surrounded him. He could hear the rain tap against the window furiously, the kettle's water boil as Mrs Hudson wanted to make tea, the keyboard from John's laptop constantly tapped as John write in his new blog. Sherlock's head flew up,

"John," he called his name out as he stared at his roommate with eager eyes. John looked up at him with a tired expression; he thanked Mrs Hudson for his tea as she placed it on the coffee table. She offered to give Sherlock a cup of tea but he shook his head. "That woman, the one that was found in the bathtub," Sherlock started. "What happened to her?" John furrowed his eye brows as he gulped down on his tea,

"She was sent to Molly, I think, Lestrade gave her to forensics but they found nothing, so they gave her to the morgue. But why would you want to know, Sherloc-" But Sherlock already stormed out the door to eager to get inspect the woman. John sighed and rolled his eyes; he got up, placed his laptop behind him on his chair and looked out the window. He heard Sherlock yell for a taxi.

"Oh, off again?" Mrs Hudson asked innocently with a smile, John rubbed his tired eyes and chuckled,

"Apparently, yes." He reached for his coat and kissed Mrs Hudson on the cheek. "We'll be back later." He confirmed as he walked out the door to chase after Sherlock.

By the time John reached the bottom of the stairs to the front door, Sherlock was already gone. John sighed, raised his hand and yelled for a taxi…

The taxi ride must have been ten to twenty minutes tops, but by the time John had said a quick hello to Molly and entered the room in which the dead body was held, he was met with Sherlock, who was already inspecting the body. It wasn't the nicest site in the world, John admitted, to see a naked dead body placed on a silver tray, for people to inspect, in front of you, but it was part of the job he supposed.

"No factures or broken bones," Sherlock informed him with his back turned back on him. John's eye eyebrows furrowed as he slowly walked over to join Sherlock. "No burns either." Sherlock stepped back; a confused expression appeared on his face, something which John barely witnessed. He looked up at John. "What did they say was the cause of death?" He asked curiously as he looked over the body for any hints or clues as to what killed her. John shook his head,

"They didn't." John replied in a subtle tone as he too looked at the body. Sherlock hummed to himself in thought, he sat there for a few moments, thinking of an explanation, but the truth was, there wasn't one. There were no flesh wounds of any sort, and she looked relatively clean, no bruises or anything. So how did she die? John coughed as he covered over the woman body with the green material.

"Maybe we can find something in forensics?" John suggested as he handed Sherlock his scarf and coat. "There has to be something, she can't just die, not without a cause or explanation anyway." He stated. Sherlock didn't seem convinced; his eyes were still attached to the death bed before him as he took the coat and scarf from John. He sat up and walked with John to the forensics.

He looked hours and hours at different DNA samples, hair strands, finger prints, but there was _nothing_ that could prove she was killed, or what could prove that killed her.

"Sherlock, it's coming up to midnight, I'm calling it a day, you coming?" John admitted through a yawn as he slowly put on his coat. Sherlock looked through his scientific binocular; the tray he looked through contained some substance that Sherlock managed to find underneath the woman's nails. He leaned back frustrated.

"It's just dirt," Sherlock acknowledged. He shook his head, "I don't understand, there's no evidence John." John didn't know what to say, in a normal situation like that Sherlock would be able to solve the mystery within minutes, but this case. No way, this case was different; there weren't any tracks to follow up on, which surely made Sherlock frustrated.

"Sherlock," John addressed, he turned around to fully look at him. "Maybe we should leave this case. There's _no_ evidence and its midnight for Christ's sake. I already told Mrs Hudson we'd be home for tea," he admitted. He nodded his head back to the door. "I'll go tell Molly to put away the body…" There was a pause. "Sherlock?" He turned back to the man sitting down. Sherlock sat there motionless for a few seconds and then he jumped up unexpectedly, a minuscule smile appeared on his face. He placed the scarf around his neck,

"The killer, they didn't even move a single thing. They were after something," Sherlock commented. John looked taken back,

"How do yo-"

"Think about it John, Jenny was home early, that may have disrupted the thief while he was in the flat, which he was trying to find something of great importance. Maybe Jenny caught him in the act but the killer well… Murdered her," he explained as he grabbed his coat.

"But that still doesn't explain how he managed to climb up fifty eight floors, open a locked window and break in unnoticed. And how did he kill Jenny? There are no marks on her body, no fingerprints anywhere. You wouldn't even believe another person was in the apartment." John doubted as he walked to the door and left it open for Sherlock. He nodded thanks and walked down the corridor.

"Well, if the killer was looking for something, he didn't get it. Not that we know of anyway." Sherlock concluded as he marched down the corridor, his long coat floated behind him. John gave him a quizzical look, Sherlock sighed. "Jenny must have phoned the police as soon as she knew somebody was in the apartment. The man,"

"Or woman," John corrected.

"Or woman…" Sherlock took under consideration, "Must have killed Ms Greenway and left before the police arrived… I don't know how to explain how there are no traces. But I will do." Sherlock finished off as the got to the end of the corridor. Sherlock noticed how the weather had not changed, in fact the rain poured down even heavier than it done earlier. He called for a taxi automatically; luckily a taxi was very close. Sherlock opened the door,

"How?" John asked curious as he stood to look at Sherlock before he entered the taxi.

"Because he'll kill again," Sherlock confessed just before he moved to sit down in the taxi…

"Mrs Hudson," John whispered in the kitchen as he plonked down shopping bags that were soaking wet from the rain- which still hadn't stopped. She turned around, a duster in her hand and polish in the other; she looked at him with a smile. "Um, how long has Sherlock been like that?" They both looked over the wall to observe the man sitting on the wooden chair, legs crossed and hands and eyes closed together. Mrs Hudson shook her head,

"All morning. He didn't even eat my breakfast I made for him." Mrs Hudson confessed, she didn't sound all too pleased. She sighed, "How was the shopping?" She asked politely as she opened the fridge door for John. She shrieked. John looked up in panic and then rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock!" He yelled as he retrieved two dead frogs from the corner of the fridge. Mrs Hudson was still panting. There was no response from the man. John sighed in frustration,

"Oh for god sa- Sherlock!" He yelled his name again, that time he slammed the two frogs on the desk next to Sherlock. Sherlock opened one eye,

"You didn't answer my question," was his only reply. He stretched his legs around into a normal pose and stole the newspaper from the table. John looked at him with an etched expression,

"You never asked me a question," John admitted, he shook his head, "mind telling me what two frogs were doing in the corner of the fridge?" John raised the question.

"Experiment," Sherlock replied nonchalant as he continued to read the rest of the paper. John rolled his eyes and walked back to the kitchen to continue with the shopping. Sherlock threw the paper to the other side of the room,

"Boring." He commented with a sigh. His phone buzzed and Sherlock immediately picked up the phone. A smile appeared on his face,

"John. There's another one."

**I know The Doctor wasn't even mentioned in this one, but trust me; he will be involved **_**a lot. **_**Thank you for all the kind reviews. And if it's not a problem, do you mind telling me if this was a bit ooc or not, as I've never written Sherlock fics before. Thank you.**


	3. A Swimming Pool?

"So then, where are we going?" River asked with a smile on her face. She walked around the TARDIS toward the Doctor, leaving no personal space between him and her as they looked at the scanner. The Doctor scratched his head,

"I..Um…Well…" He mumbled as he looked at the screen in confusion. He squinted his eyes at the screen unsure of how to answer River's question. River looked at him with a raised eyebrow and the corner of her lips curled into a tiny smirk. The Doctor realised, she was mocking him. He huffed through his nose. Truth was he had no idea where they were going; the TARDIS was flying round on a whim, not following the Doctor's coordinates-which he _did _set for a lovely evening at the Galapogos Islands VI, because there was going to be a Turtlicular Show, where the shells on the turtles backs would glow into vibrant luminous colours, creating quite the spectacle. The more the Doctor thought about his 'paradise event' the more he grew impatient. He let out a sigh, intentionally. River shook her head,

"You have no idea, do you?" She mocked as she walked around the TARDIS and pressed down some buttons. The Doctor watched her curiously; because one- he wanted to know what was wrong with his sexy- and two- he thought he might be able to learn something from this 'TARDIS expert'. River furrowed her eye brows, the Doctor thought it was due to the fact that whatever she had planned to do in order to fix the TARDIS did not work. He chuckled to himself softly, only to have cold stone eyes dagger at him, he coughed to supress anymore smiles or laughs that he may have done. River sighed, convinced that she herself couldn't get the TARDIS to work. She looked up at the Doctor and shook her head lightly, "She's never done this before," she admitted as she looked up at the cylinder, watching the smaller cylinders inside move up and down notion, "Sweetie, you haven't done anything to her have you?" She asked sceptically, "Haven't changed any uplinks or changed the diversity of any transverse polarity." The Doctor hadn't known whether he should have been insulted by her questions, The Doctor, do such things as _that_. He shook his head and bopped her nose; she did that adorable thing that he loved when she wrinkled her nose. He smiled, but River's expression didn't alter, she wasn't convinced; she leant back against the console, her arms crossed over her chest in an accusing pose. The Doctor straightened his bow tie,

"River- this is-that is- why do-" He mumbled a loud of gibberish, River furrowed her eye brows,

"Sweetie, speak English," she joked as she looked at him in amusement. "Doesn't matter anyway, I'll just take a look at the manual and-" She saw the Doctor's smile falter, she raised her eye brow, "You _do_ have the TARDIS manual don't you, sweetie?" She asked in a strained tone. The Doctor's eyes widened. He turned around; a high pitched nervous giggle escaped him as he paced over to the other side of the TARDIS, where he would be able to see River's face.

"River, the manual was stupid, I disagreed with it." He confessed as he messed with random buttons on the console.

"Well, where is it now?"

"Oh, I just chucked it into a supernova," he saw River's expression, just the roll of her eyes and that similar sigh she would do when he says 'bowtie are cool'- which they weren't, according to River. "River, don't give me that look, it was rubbish, rubbish like apples. Maybe even worse!" He expressed as he jogged up to her. "Anywaay," he dragged on the word as he sat on the console next to her, he used hand motions as he spoke, nearly hitting River in the face, "Maybe the TARDIS wants to have a turn, you know," he shuffled his shoulder to the left, barging her purposely. "Maybe she has an important place for us to be, like she told me before the once, she takes me where _I need to_ _go_," he expressed the words, "so perhaps wherever she's taking us may be important and stuff." He concluded as he still waved his arms about. River eventually grabbed his arms and placed them on his leg stopping anymore hand movement, she was already hit twice in the face, there was only so much patience she could take. He furrowed his eye brows when she did move his arms, but then thought nothing of it. For some reason, when she touched his arm, his stomach had gone all fluttery and jelly-like; he decided he kind of liked it, something new to that body. He got up from the console and span around in a three sixty spin, which made him turn back to River, he pointed a finger. "Why don't you get dressed then while I'll try and figure out where it is we are actually going? Cause you know '_Timey Wimey'_-" He stopped midsentence implying for River to finish it off. River shook her head, did he really expect her to finish off the sentence.

"_Spacey Wacey_," she chuckled out as she climbed the stairs to reach the wardrobe, she turned around "Aren't you going to get changed?" She laughed at her own joke as she looked at the Doctor. He gave her a puzzled look and then looked down on himself as his own attire; he thought there was nothing wrong with it.

"Suppose I could change the bowtie," he suggested in a dull tone. There was a pause, "Oh!" He said excitedly as his head snapped up, "I bought a bowtie that has fezzes on it," he realised. He automatically raced toward the corridor not taking a look back.

"Gives me even more things to shoot off," River commented out loud as she carried on up the stairs.

"C'mon John! I want to get to the crime scene before Anderson gets all his _colleges_," he spoke the word sarcastically with air quotation marks, "get their hands on the victim." He heard John sigh from the other room as he trudged through the door; his frown lines were easily visible.

"Sherlock," John breathed out his name as he picked up his coat from the back of the door, "You do know these are _people_ you're talking about? They were _living_ people, Sherlock, and you're just treating them like..."

"Like they're no longer existent?" Sherlock interrupted as he wrapped around his dark blue scarf around his neck. John finished buttoning up his coat and looked up at Sherlock. He gave him a sorrowful expression. At times even John thought that Sherlock was empty of any sympathy and emoticons, but then he thought of his brother, Mycroft. He too had the same fault, not caring. Maybe it ran through the family…

Sherlock gave John a puzzled look but didn't say anything; instead he turned around to walk down the stairs. John gave a wave in the kitchen,

"See you later, Mrs Hudson," he called as he made his way downstairs also.

The TARDIS was still in motion. The Doctor tried, while River was still getting changed, to get the TARDIS back to normal again, however the controls were having no effect, so in the end the Doctor gave up. He sighed and fell back onto the TARDIS sofa as he waited for River to appear.

Five minutes had passed and the Doctor had become impatient, he would tap his feet against the floor, or he would occasionally check his watch to pass the time.

"Was is it with woman and looking nice on adventures? I don't think the monsters will really appreciate their style of clothing when we're being chased by them…" The Doctor mumbled to himself and he burrowed his head in his hands. There was a sudden jolt from the TARDIS; the Doctor nearly fell from his chair. He looked up at the scanner, but it was no use. There was static covering the screen not giving a clear view. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled a face. They had landed, he knew that much, and he so wanted to check outside and see where the TARDIS had landed them, but River was still getting ready. The Doctor thought about it for a while… "Maybe one quick peek won't hurt," he suggested as he slowly walked to the doors. He slowly opened the left door, a creak escaping it. He looked at the door accusingly and quickly put his finger to his lips, "Shh!" He shushed the door childishly. He popped his head back into the TARDIS, no sign of River, he smiled. He turned back around to where he was,

"A swimming pool?"

"And who are you?" A broad muscular man asked Sherlock as he blocked the way to the entrance of the hotel. Sherlock looked surprised for a minute, even being asked who he was; he always thought that he had a very rememberable face. He blinked,

"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes," he introduced himself. He turned around to point at John, "and this is my assistant John Watson, I believe an Inspector Lestrade invited us over," he stated. The man didn't budge, in fact he looked rather motionless and bored, he coughed and stood up straight, showing off his brawny chest.

"I'm going to need to see some I.D," he replied, his voice was low and husky. Sherlock nodded and tapped on his coat, he then tapped onto his trouser pockets,

"Damn it," he cursed to himself quietly, he looked back at John. "I left the I.D in the flat," he admitted. John sighed,

"So did I."

"Well, then I'm sorry I can't let you in." The body guard said as he crossed his arms and looked at them fiercely, as if he were warning them off. Sherlock chuckled in his face mockingly,

"Well, I take it from your I.D picture and date expiry that you're relatively new at this job- first day in fact," Sherlock looked further down his body, "the three hundred pound suit you're wearing, and your newly polished shoes prove the fact that you're trying to impress your boss, but let me tell you this now," Sherlock quickly spoke, the man looked dazed, either from the fact Sherlock had spoken so fast it muddled with his brain or because everything Sherlock had said was all very accurate. John shook his head; he decided it was probably a bit of both. "If there's a case, any case, specifically a murder or suicide, then I'm always the first person you let in…" The man didn't respond, he stood in the same position, completely baffled. Sherlock smiled, "That's the spirit," he joked as he walked past the body guard into the building, the smile automatically wiped off his face as soon as he came even a millimetre in the building. John shook his head apologetically,

"I-Urm- His," he couldn't think of anything to say to the poor man in front of him except pat him on the arm and say, "Keep up the good work."

Sherlock and John had finally made their way up the elevator onto the level of the crime scene. The elevator doors dinged and opened.

"Sherlock, glad you could make it," Lestrade welcomed with a little smile. John shook his hand and nodded.

"An identical murder much like the one yesterday, of course I had to come." Sherlock responded as he walked up to the bathroom, where again a woman was left naked inside the bathtub, dead. He turned back to Lestrade, "When did you find her?" He asked as he got out his little magnifying glass and inspected the crime scene. Everything was the same as last time. No sign of forced entry, the victim had drowned with any water in sight. Sherlock sighed, "Oh, aren't you clever," he breathed the words out as he placed the magnifying glass back into his coat pocket.

"Please tell me you've got something Sherlock," Lestrade commented, as he was standing against the door.

"John, come here a minute," Sherlock called over as he closely inspected the victims neck. John walked over to him. "Right there, can you see that," he pointed to the woman neck. John coughed and leaned in closer to the body, he squinted his eyes,

"Is that-Are they words?" John asked confused as he leaned back.

"Yes I they are-" He moved even closer, "Blue box." Sherlock stated as he got up from his bent over position. He mimed the words back to himself. _Blue Box_…

"Yes, but that doesn't give me anything to work with Sherlock," complained Lestrade. "I've hired a whole team out there and if there's nothing for them to-"

"Shush, shush a minute," Sherlock interrupted rudely as he tried to think. Sherlock stood there, hands clasped together eyes closed.

"Maybe it's a warning," John suggested as he walked back over to Lestrade. "Either way, I can't really imagine what a blue box could be a warning for…" A beeping started to go off, Lestrade picked up his phone quickly from his pocket, clicked a button and then placed it near his ear. John saw Lestrade expression change,

"There's a what!" He heard him say in shock. "Okay, thanks," he pressed another button to end the call. He rubbed at his temples, "You're not going to believe this, but there's been a break in. In this building." John turned to look at Sherlock; apparently Lestrade's conversation over the phone had drawn his attention.

"Where?" John asked simply.

"Down stairs… In the swimming pool, but you know what's stranger. The guys in the cctv said that what appeared on the screen was a blue box." Sherlock eyes widened. "Apparently it came out of nowhere." Sherlock walked over to the door hurriedly,

"Just like the warnings said," John acknowledged. Sherlock brushed past him,

"C'mon John."

**Ohhh. Cliff hanger. Hope you liked this chapter; I actually really enjoys writing this chapter in fairness. So yeah, please review. Tell me what you thought. If you think the plot lines good, or if you think any of my grammars incorrect or if any characters are OCC- which I think in this chapter they weren't really, IMO. But yeah, compliments are available aswell, aha. Thanks guys**.


	4. Breaking And Entering

**AN: The reviews for this have been amazing, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, it has meant a lot. Of course, more reviews are welcome. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

"Hands in the air. Now!" A man commanded the Doctor, a man with a gun. Four other policemen walked into the room, guns in their hands, the Doctor sighed.

"Really, guns?" He breathed out in annoyance. "It's enough with River-" But the Doctor was silenced when one of the men charged at him, turned him around brutally and pushed him up against the TARDIS doors. The Doctor's face was squashed against the door, so his words were hard to hear properly, "Whatever you do don't put handcu-" _Clank. _The police officer had closed the handcuffs around his wrists. The Doctor rolled his eyes, "If I had a star for every time I'm handcuffed I'd-"

"Shut up," the man ordered as he turned him around again. "I am arresting you for breaking and entering. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." He yelled at him as he picked him up by his collar and pushed him into the direction of the exit.

"Do you sell fish fingers?" The Doctor asked as he continued to get dragged. The policemen gave him a snarl, the Doctor's expression faltered. "I guessing the answers no…"

River walked down the TARDIS corridors, she had gotten dressed into what she thought appropriate – the parachute-like dress equipped with a blaster and a tiny scanner. She attached the vortex manipulator around her wrist and smiled. Just like old times. She took a deep breath and she slowly walked down the corridor, she dragged her fingers across the walls as she walked, feeling the familiar warmth from the TARDIS vibrate through her skin.

"He's so young," she muttered quietly to herself, she gulped, "he doesn't even know who I am properly…" She slowed down and closed her eyes; again, she took a deep breath. The TARDIS hummed, the lights changed into a more warm yellow tinted lighting. She leaned against the wall as she tried to collect herself. The man she loved was falling further and further away from her, and she couldn't do anything to stop it. She could feel the tears that had started to form in her eyes so she looked up at the ceiling and blinked a few times. She didn't want the Doctor to notice she had cried. She took another deep breath, "That stupid impossible man," she breathed out with a smile. She shook her head and pulled out a mirror that she had kept in her pocket, her bigger on the inside pocket, and pulled it up to look at herself. Her face had become red and puffy but she felt relieved in the fact she had put waterproof mascara on. She nodded as soon as she applied the make up on her face and thought it was okay and snapped the mirror shut, placing it back into her pocket. "Right," she said as she nodded to herself.

Once she reached the TARDIS main room she rolled her eyes,

"He's already gone without me hasn't he?" She asked the TARDIS, the TARDIS' lights flickered, she guessed that was some sort of response. She shook her head and continued to make her way to the TARDIS doors when she heard the Doctor speak. Or somebody else speak anyway. She ran up to the scanner and turned it on, only to be greeted with the Doctor squashed face over the lens. She grimaced at the view but laughed on the inside really; it was quite a funny sight. She knew she couldn't burst out and help him, there were at least seven police officers out there- she would automatically be ambushed arrested with him. She thought out a plan, she rolled her eyes and sighed. She walked toward the door; suddenly she heard the clicks of many guns aim toward her.

"And what sort of time do you call?" The Doctor mocked with a smile, the police officer who held him gripped him tightly which caused to give a tiny yelp of pain. River smirked,

"Well we're both in handcuffs, not a big change in dynamic there sweetie," River admitted as she to got pulled up by an officer.

"I am arresting you for breaking and entering. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." The man said to River. She rolled her eyes at him,

"Breaking and entering," she repeated, she looked at the Doctor, "Doctor, where are we?"

"Right now," an officer interrupted, "on the way to the police station. Now c'mon," he commented as he clicked pushed River head down so as she didn't hit the top of the police car. The Doctor was pushed in the car on the other side. They sat together in the police car. Suddenly they both laughed,

"Okay, okay." The Doctor chuckled, "I think it's safe to say, this one wasn't my fault." He announced. River smirked,

"Even when it's not our fault we somehow manage to be connected in handcuffs. Sweetie, I believe this is staring to be a thing," she teased. The Doctor shoulder barged her playfully.

_Click_. Another photo was taken. Both River and the Doctor appeared onto a phone. The anonymous figure gripped onto the phone tightly and sent the photo to somebody else. Moments later the phone went off and the person checked it. There was a reply,

"Yes. That's him."

**Sorry this was extremely short compared to the other chapters, but this was more of a filler chapter. The next one, I hope, will be very exciting, thrilling and a little bit funny. Reviews are very welcome.**


	5. Lady Friend

A/N : Wow, 17 favourites and 22 Alerts. Thank you so much! The plot is about to get a lot thicker now, so keep reading. I'll try and add in line breaks for when paragraphs are taken from a different location or character, so as it's easier for you lot to understand. :)

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><p><strong>GMT: 6:25pm Thursday 24<strong>**th**** November 2012****- Science Lab**

Sherlock was sat on his chair in the science lab looking through _his_ microscope. Nobody else was in there. He asked Molly to make sure no one was to interrupt him, as what he was doing was serious business, when really it was only a little experiment to keep him distracted. So really he was just waiting. Waiting for Lestrade to give him the text which told him he could see the convict he had back at the station.

Sherlock had enough with the dull experiment he was doing- the procrastination of waiting was too much, so he leaned back on his chair, sighed and clamped his hands together. He closed his eyes. He concentrated on his breathing. In. Out. In. _Ding. _Sherlock opened one eye and searched around for the source of the noise. His phone was lit up on the desk. The word 'Lestrade' was bold and highlighted. He picked it up and answered,

"Can I come in now?" He asked impatiently as he moved from his chair to grab his black long coat anyway, single handed.

"Yes, Sherlock, but you won't get anything out of them." Lestrade replied undoubtedly. He continued, "the woman is just sitting there not answering _any_ questions-" Sherlock grinned,

"Playing hard to get, I _love_ those," Sherlock interrupted Lestrade. Lestrade sighed, not too shocked that he hadn't managed to even say more than two sentences without Sherlock saying anything.

"And the other one, well… He's not what you would call normal," Lestrade light-heartedly laughed, "I think you'll get along quite well, Sherlock."

"Quite," Sherlock said. "Well, if you just drop them off at my house then I'm sure-"

"D-Drop them off at your- Sherlock they're convicts. I can't just go delivering them to people's houses like their some sort of delivery packages," Lestrade replied back. On the other side of the line, Sherlock had started to make his way to the front of the building, raising his hand for a cab to come and pick him up. Sherlock sighed,

"Lestrade from what I've gathered you have nothing. Just get them to my apartment by," he looked at his watch, "Seven."

"Sherlock." Sherlock could hear the annoyance that came through the phone.

Sherlock ended the call and grinned to himself. He climbed in the taxi which he had called over and gave the taxi driver his address.

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><p><strong>GMT: 6:02pm Thursday 24<strong>**th**** November 2012****- Police Station**

Lestrade pinched at his forehead with his left hand. The other held a scorching hot coffee which one of the new employees had given him when he demanded one. He was stressed. Stressed to the point in which he just wanted to close the case and give up.

He watched his two colleges in the interview room question the convict. But the woman didn't answer any of the questions. When Lestrade asked for any background information on the woman he wasn't given any, it was as if the woman didn't exist. Lestrade watched her carefully. She didn't seem at all fazed by being enclosed in small spaces or being bombarded with question after question. Instead she just sat on the chair, twiddling with one of the curls that fell delicately from her hair, like she was bored.

Lestrade took a huge gulp of the coffee. The hot liquid scorched his throat as he forgot to check the temperature of the coffee before he drank it. He grimaced and threw it into the bin in the corner of the room. He heard one of the inspectors as the woman another question,

"What were you doing walking out of a blue telephone box? How did it even get there?"

But the inspector was left unanswered; instead the woman looked up at the two inspectors and gave them a flat expression. The male inspector, inspector Joe Brookes, shook his head and looked at his watch,

"This interview is terminated eighteen o' six," he announced as he switch of the tape which had been recording. Inspector Joe Brookes sighed as he got up from his chair and made his way to the door, his college following him. They shut the door behind then and entered the same room Lestrade was watching them from.

"She won't even budge. There's no point in asking her any questions," Joe informed in a rough voice. Lestrade clicked his tongue,

"What about the other one, the one she came with?"

"He's responsive, sir. He's just not helpful." Joe replied as he straightened the lapels of his jacket. Lestrade raised an eyebrow,

"Okay," he sighed. "Tell them that I'll be in there in a few minutes," he told John. John nodded and left the room.

Lestrade felt his eyes becoming tired. His whole body was tired,

"Twelve hour shift, sir?" A woman, her name was Sue, asked as she saw him yawning away. Lestrade laughed at that as he stretched his arms,

"Yeah, as a matter of fact." He looked up at the clock that was on the wall. _Three hours to go_ he thought to himself.

Inspector Joe entered the room again,

"They're waiting for you, sir." He commented with a nod. Lestrade nodded back and walked to the other interview room. As he walked he got out his phone, looked down the contacts list until he reached _S_. He clicked on Sherlock and called the number, the phone rang.

"Can I come in yet?" He heard the familiar arrogance of Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes, Sherlock, but you won't get anything out of them." He replied back. "The woman is just sitting there not answering _any_ questions-" But he was cut off when Sherlock interrupted,

"Playing hard to get, I _love_ those," Lestrade heard his ecstatic enthusiasm over the phone. It still baffled Lestrade how an investigation could make somebody so thrilled and excited. Lestrade sighed, as he attempted to continue his sentence,

"And the other one, well… He's not what you would call normal," he only guessed that from the comments that were flying all over the station. He hadn't even met the man yet. Lestrade laughed, "I think you'll get along quite well, Sherlock."

"Quite," he heard Sherlock reply, though it sounded as if he weren't even listening to Lestrade at all. He could hear traffic in the background. "Well, if you just drop them off at my house then I'm sure-"

Lestrade stopped walking.

"D-Drop them off at your- Sherlock they're convicts," he emphasized. "I can't just go delivering them to people's houses like their some sort of delivery packages," he informed him. Lestrade pinched at his brow again, he couldn't believe he was even thinking about leaving convicts in the hands of Sherlock Holmes. He heard Sherlock sigh,

"Lestrade from what I've gathered you have _nothing_." Lestrade gulped and closed his eyes tightly, he wished Sherlock wasn't such a difficult smart arse twenty four seven. "Just get them to my apartment by," there was a pause. Lestrade waited impatiently "Seven."

Lestrade's eyes opened. He looked around the room quickly to check the time. The clock read quarter to seven and he still had to interview one of the suspects.

"Sherlock," he half begged half warned, but then he was cut off. Lestrade looked at the phone, "He cut me off." He acknowledged. Though he wasn't too surprised, it was _Sherlock_ he was talking with. He put his phone on silent and placed it in his pocket. "Right," he said to himself as he was led to the interview room. Inspector Joe walked into the other room and Lestrade took a deep breathe, "God help us."

He walked into the room.

"I don't know why I was in the swimming pool." Lestrade heard the convict say to Inspector Sally. "If I wanted to go swimming I'd just go to the planet Orbanous," Lestrade saw the man smile widely and close in on Sally. "It's a planet made up a many water rides. You can stay there until your hands go all wrinkly and weird. Plus, they sell Jammie Dodgers there to."

It was then that Sally even realised Lestrade had entered the room.

"Oh, for the tape, Inspector Lestrade has entered the room at," she looked at her watch.

"Ten to seven." The man in the bow tie answered before her. Sally turned around to look at him puzzled.

Lestrade then understood why everyone had talked about this man all over the station. He was definitely… Odd. Lestrade walked over to the empty chair that was opposite the man with the brown floppy hair.

"So," Lestrade breathed out. "What's with the bow tie?" He asked as politely as he could, pointing to the blue neckwear. Lestrade thought he'd better off start as a friendly person, so the man didn't think of him as _just_ an inspector, which he was of course, but somebody he could trust and tell the truth. The man leant back offended,

"It's cool. Why does nobody see that bowtie are cool?" The man asked, mainly to himself. Lestrade's eye brows frowned,

"No, no. I like it," he lied. He just wanted to get on the man's good side. "Very… Trendy?" The man automatically warmed up to Lestrade, he smiled and left out his arm for him to shake. Lestrade was weary at first, it had been commonly known for suspects to become violent, even in a heavily watched room. But he shook it anyway.

"I like you. You're different to the others around here," the man complimented. He straightened his bow tie and scratched at his cheek, "So… Umm, how is the other, umm."

"You mean your lady friend?" Sally asked, getting to the point. The man gulped,

"What? No, no, no, no, no…" He said fast paced, "I mean she's not, y'know, I mean she is a lady friend, she a very nice lady friend." Sally raised her eyebrow at the man. He turned deep red, "But not like that," he rushed out. "We just sort of…" The man panicked not sure what to say.

"Travel together?" Lestrade guessed.

"Exactly!" The man agreed as he took a deep breath, finally glad he was no longer put under embarrassment.

Lestrade smiled at the man. He was weird, but not in a bad way. After all, he had gotten used to Sherlock so that man might not be as bad. Lestrade was glad the man was finally talking, but he promised Sherlock he'd get them to his house by seven. He looked up at the clock, fifty three minutes past six. Lestrade placed his elbows on the desk and sighed. It took about five minutes to get to his apartment.

"Okay, okay…" Lestrade sighed. "I think that's a wrap now." He looked at Sally and gave her a nod. She turned to the tape,

"This interview finished at eighteen fifty three." She then clicked the tape off and left the room. Leaving just Lestrade and the bow tied man in the room together.

"Okay. I'm not really meant to, but I'm going to be sending both you and…" Lestrade thought carefully, he didn't want to go through the _lady friend_ incident again. "you're travelling buddy to one of my top detectives."

"What about my TARDIS?" The man asked, slightly alerted. Lestrade turned around to look at him,

"You're what?"

"The big blue telephone box, the TARDIS."

"That's been dealt with my crew. They need to take it for any evidence," Lestrade answered as he moved closer to the door. The man walked up to Lestrade and nodded,

"I better get her back, 'cause I still need to fix the cup links which Rory broke." He affirmed with a frown as Lestrade attached some handcuffs around the man wrists.

"Well, if there's nothing in there that could be classed as harmful or illegal than I guess you could have it back," Lestrade offered as he walked him out the door and down the corridor.

There was a few minutes silence as Lestrade guided him through the police department. Until finally the man spoke,

"What about my friend?" He asked as Lestrade was signing off papers on the front desk. Lestrade finished writing his signature and looked up at the man.

"She'll be with another college of mine, don't worry, she's in safe hands," Lestrade guaranteed as he once again led the man down the car park into one of the police cars.

"That's what they always say," Lestrade heard the man mutter under his breath as he ducked down into the back seat.

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><p><strong>AN- Hiya guys, I'm just writing this now, but for some reason, FanFiction hasn't allowed me to update any of my chapter over the last few weeks. It's allowed me to upload new stories but not chapter. So this and another story of mine of been kept in the dark, so I apologize. **

**Let me know what you thought of the chapter, I'm not going to lie, but I sort of liked the relationship with the Doctor and Lestrade. :) **


	6. Certain Glint

**A/N- Thank you everyone for adding this to your story alert or in your favourite's. It's a pleasure to know what I write is actually liked by many people. :)**

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><p><strong>GMT: 6:59pm Thursday 24<strong>**th**** November 2012****- 221b Baker Street**

Sherlock sat on the sofa, cross legged and anxious. This case what just what he needed, something new, something fresh. He clamped his hands together and grinned. He looked back up at the clock in the corner of the room, ticking away. He told Lestrade seven o'clock. Seven o'clock and both convicts would be in his living room. His was delighted, no his more than delighted- his _thrilled_!

Mrs Hudson walked up the stairs, some tea bags in her hand. Sherlock stared at her for a while, taking in every detail. He already guessed where she had been just by the colour of her nail polish and clothes. He smirked to himself,

"Have a fun time Bowling, Mrs Hudson?" He asked smugly, just as she reached the top step. She frowned as she made her way to the kitchen. She stood on her tip toes to get to the higher cupboard and get the tea bag container.

"Oh, it was very nice, thank you, Sherlock," she replied in a cheery tone. Normally, you'd have expected a man to reply saying 'oh, that's very nice', but Sherlock being Sherlock,

"Aren't you going to ask?" He asked her with a frown as she made her way to the living room, then she frowned.

"Ask what, Sherlock?"

"How I knew," he stated. He looked up at Mrs Hudson, clueless. "Surely you're interested in how I knew you went bowling today- seeming that you didn't tell me, or give me any hints that you were going to such events." He leaped up from the sofa so as he was sat on the leg of the chair. "If I were you I'd be questioning. Well, no, not really, I mean if I was you I would be sitting there impressed by my own intelligence." He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Sherlock, what are you going on about?" Mrs Hudson asked, slightly frightened. Sherlock sighed,

"How do you not unders-" He stopped himself, knowing it would be incredibly, what was the word John would say? Oh yes, _rude _of him to continue.

The front door had opened up at the front of the building.

"Sherlock," John called. "Mrs Hudson." Nobody answered him so John sighed and hopped up the stairs. "Oh, there you are? Why didn't you answer, I called you." John breathed out.

"Mrs Hudson has gone bowling today," Sherlock announced in a fake happy tone. John looked at Mrs Hudson puzzled, pointed at him behind his back and mimed 'is he okay?' to Mrs Hudson. She shrugged her shoulders and went back into the kitchen. John stood for a moment, not moving- trying to see sense in anything that had just happened. But it was Sherlock, so nothing ever made sense.

"Oh, umm. Lestrade called, said he would be a bit late," he informed Sherlock, but he didn't reply, "traffic." Again no reply. John shook his head and collapsed onto the other sofa, sighing with relief as he finally managed to sit down and relax for the day. John looked at Sherlock. He was doing that familiar expression that he had become fond of- his thinking face. "If you're wondering, yes I did know Mrs Hudson had gone bowling," he stated, trying to make conversation. Sherlock didn't reply, just sat down and stared into nothingness. "Just incase you were wondering… Ah, thank you." He said as Mrs Hudson gave him a cup of tea. Mrs Hudson smiled but then pointed a finger at him,

"Just this once, I'm not your house keeper." She reminded him, she turned around to give one to Sherlock, but he was still busy… Doing whatever it was he was doing. So Mrs Hudson placed the tea on the place mat and walked to the kitchen again.

"How did you know Mrs Hudson had gone bowling?" Sherlock asked John with his eyes closed and his hands still placed together. John paused, expecting Sherlock to look up at him while he was talking, but no, apparently not.

"She told us this morning, Sherlock. At breakfast." John answered, and then took a gulp of his tea. The temperature was just right.

"Something more important must have been happening at the time, otherwise I would have heard." Sherlock concluded. "It's easier to drown out your surroundings and concentrate on one thing at a time, so as you don't pick up any unnecessary information- like Mrs Hudson going bowling."

"Sherlock, you were playing with a rubix cube."

"A very high stimulating problematic sol-"

"A child game," John interrupted smugly. Sherlock frowned and was about to answer back.

_Ding Dong._

Sherlock eyes opened. He looked up at the clock, five past seven.

"That must be Lestrade," John stated. He looked at Sherlock, more so expecting him to get up and answer the door. But Sherlock just sat there. John sighed, "I'll go get the door then, shall I?"

John got up from his seat and made his way to the front door. He opened it.

"John," Lestrade greeted.

"Lestrade and…" John looked at the other man. He frowned. There was something familiar about the man, blue bow tie, tweed jacket and braces. John shook his head, coming back to reality. He stepped aside, "Come in, come in." He encouraged, as he let Lestrade and the stranger in into his home. They were soaking wet from the rain. John frowned, the weather had said 'a nice warm summer's day- evidently not.

"It's raining cats and dogs out there." Lestrade commented as he placed his drenched coat onto the coat holder. John saw the stranger chuckle,

"Of course, it's not actually raining cats and dogs. That only happens on Rantoon," he said. John looked at Lestrade confused, but Lestrade shrugged his shoulders,

"What's Rantoon?" John asked. The man with the brown floppy hair turned to him with a smile,

"It's not _what's_, it's _where_. Or when I suppose…" The man answered. "But it's a planet on the Plantenemia solar system, home of the Rantines- lovely people. Well, when they don't have their tentacles around your necks, anyway. But they rain cats and dog's there- can be very dangerous, especially when it comes to storms. You see Great Dane's and all sorts." The man rambled, not letting John or Lestrade get a word in. John paused but then said,

"Yes, well, of course." John pointed to the stairs and Lestrade walked up knowingly, the stranger following, "Plantenemia?" John whispered to himself and frowned. He thought that man was mental.

Sherlock heard three people walk up the stairs, he grinned in excitement. Of course, if anyone were to look at him he would wipe that smirk right of his face. He heard, more than saw, Lestrade reach the top of the stairs.

"You're late." Sherlock said, not looking at any one specific. Lestrade rolled his eyes and stepping into the living room, the fugitive smiled as he entered the room.

"I didn't agree with Monopoly either," the man agreed as he pointed to the stabbed monopoly board that was hung on the wall with a knife. John faltered,

"Sherlock doesn't agree with the rules," John admitted as he walked over to the chair he was sat on five minutes before. "Apparently the murderer could be the victim." The man in the bow tie smiled,

"That's what I said but Amy said that's not possible in a game of Monopoly… She won't let me play the game anyway more," the man then frowned, but then he smiled and clapped his hands together. "So, who are you?" The man said as he walked over to the kitchen cupboard and opened it up, looking for something specific. The man turned around and pointed, "Do you have Jammie Dodgers?"

John looked at Sherlock; he had certain glimpse in his eye that John hadn't seen before.

"Um, yeah, try the cupboard to your left," John replied, pointing in the direction. The man opened the left cupboard,

"Aha!" He exclaimed, as he jumped down and walked to the chair Sherlock had set out for the fugitives earlier. The man sat down and scoffed on a Jammie dodger, licking the crumbs from his fingers once he had finished.

Lestrade looked at John and then back at the man sat on the chair.

"He hasn't given us any information- not even his name," Lestrade said out loud, mainly for Sherlock to hear, but Sherlock took no notice. He was sat on his chair, leant forward, with his elbows on his knees and his hands clamped together, all the while looking at the man in the bow tie. John stared at Sherlock expectantly, waiting for some sort of long speech about how he killed the victims, or how he had magically appeared in a swimming pool with a large police telephone box- which was nearly impossible for a man of his build to even push through the door. Even for him to sneak past the security unnoticed was unquestionable. The building was surrounded with cameras on each floor and corner, and even then they had security guards check corridors for second awareness. "Sherlock?" Lestrade called trying to get him from his daze. John looked up at him in apology, but Lestrade just huffed, "Right, Sherlock, I'm going to be back at nine. That gives you two hours." Again, no reply from Sherlock. Lestrade nodded at John as a good bye and walked out the room.

Sherlock looked at the man and raised his hand for a greeting hand shake.

"Sherlock," he greeted himself. The man looked up and smiled,

"The Doctor."

"The Doctor?"

"Yep, just the Doctor. Well, I do have other names, like 'get out' or 'madman in a box'… But I prefer the Doctor." The Doctor explained a smile on his face. Sherlock looked into his eyes; he thought they looked as if the eyes belonged to a very old man, like they were misplaced somehow.

"I'm John by the way," John butted in, hoping to be at least known of his existence. The Doctor smiled and turned around,

"Nice to meet you. Do you have any more?" He said, pointing to the empty packet of Jammie Dodgers. John didn't say anything at first but then opened his mouth,

"I'l- I'll go check." He then got up and walked to the kitchen. The Doctor turned back around to look at Sherlock,

"Why me?" Sherlock instantly whispered to the Doctor hurriedly. The Doctor laughed softly,

"Why you what?" The Doctor repeated, confused.

"You didn't tell the police your name, not even Lestrade. Yet when I give you a simple hand shake, you're almost delighted to greet yourself. At first I thought it was just to annoy Lestrade, but you don't seem the type to do something like that, meaning for some reason you trust me. So…" He paused, still not breaking any contact with the Doctor. "Why me?"

The Doctor nervously straightened his bowtie and laughed ridiculously. He itched the side of his face,

"Well, you see- I." He pulled on his lapels. "You have that look in your eyes," he finally managed to say. Sherlock didn't change expression, just continued to stare. The Doctor sighed, "When I travel, I tend to bring a friend with me."

"A companion?" Sherlock interrupted.

"I don't like companion- more so a partner. I mean, would you class John as a companion?" The Doctor countered. Sherlock didn't respond, so the Doctor took that as a hint to continue. "Well, I don't just tag along anybody, they have to be special. Or at least have something interesting about them." A pause. "And they all have that certain glint in their eyes. Like they enjoy the thrill and the danger of an adventure- and that's how I tell I've got the right person."

"And I have this, what, glint?" Sherlock asked. The Doctor nodded.

John walked back into the living room,

"Um, we ran out of Jammie dodgers."

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><p><strong>Please review, it would mean a lot. Thanks. <strong>


	7. You've brought me a present

The Doctor lowered his bottom lip; he really wanted some more Jammie dodgers. John looked at the Doctor and then shrugged his shoulders, he moved over to the chair- that was in the corner of the room- grabbed his notepad and pen from the table, and then threw himself onto the chair with a sigh. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John, but concentrated again on The Doctor. He saw the Doctor wriggle under the chair and Sherlock looked at him, seeing what was making him… Wriggle… The Doctor grunted,

"Can you- Can you get these things off me?" The Doctor asked agitated as he moved about in his chair jangling the handcuffs that were still connected to his wrists. John harshly laughed at that,

"You've been arrested for murder's, you think we're just going to-" However he was corrected wrong when Sherlock got up from his seat, shuffled for something in his pocket- which turned out to be a key- and unlocked the Doctor's shackles. John exasperated, "Sh-Sherlock! He's a murder suspect, you can't just go-"

"He doesn't intent on going anywhere, and besides, even if he did, there's two of us and one of him and going by his height and posture I'm predicting- no, stating- that we could easily reframe him if he tried to escape." Sherlock acknowledged, and then looked at the Doctor warningly. The Doctor nodded back reassuringly and when the handcuffs clicked open he sighed with relief and instantly massaged his sore wrists. Sherlock looked at John with an 'I told you so' look and smirked as he sat down again.

John huffed but couldn't be bothered to argue so he listened to what Sherlock had to ask. John noticed that The Doctor and Sherlock certainly bonded well quickly, it slightly disconcerted him. He looked up at the Doctor questioningly. He admitted Sherlock was right- the man wasn't looking to escape. In fact, the bow tied man looked more than comfortable sat on the wooden stool being questioned over and over. John didn't see him as any threat. He wondered if the man really did kill those women.

After half an hour, John was nearly falling asleep and Sherlock didn't have any more questions to ask. John, normally, would write down questions on his notepad, and if Sherlock ever asked them- which was _always-_ he would cross them out so he knew not to ask them. John had done that, crossed out all the answered questions until there was nothing else to ask, yet Sherlock still kept him there. He thought nothing of it at first, but then he noticed how intrigued Sherlock was by the Doctor's answers- for once Sherlock wasn't rudely interrupting, he was listening with fascination. This was something John had not seen from Sherlock before, which unnerved him.

However that had all waited, as John couldn't physically keep his eye lids open any longer. He had already fallen asleep a few times during the questioning, always waking up- head rested on his arm with notepad in hand. He just needed bed. So he yawned and stretched his left arm then stood, he heard the Doctor telling Sherlock about something to do with handcuffs, but his vision and his capability to listen properly were too low for him to properly listen.

"I'm going to bed," John slurred, not evening bothering to look back as he trudged his way to the bedroom. The door closed behind him.

"The word 'blue box'... Mean anything to you?" Sherlock asked, acknowledging John's disappearance. However, the Doctor avoided the subject altogether.

"What's John's second name?" The Doctor asked interested. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the door John had just entered- his bedroom.

"Watson… Why?" Sherlock asked curious. The Doctor's shoulders lowered in disappointment.

"I just know a John, that's all. John Smith," the Doctor smiled and pulled at his lapels, "quite a dashing bloke from what I've heard." He admitted, knowing his own inside joke. Sherlock wanted to say something but stopped himself, he shook his head- agreeing to himself the thing he was to say was too rude- and closed his mouth instead. He clasped his hands together,

"You didn't answer my question." Sherlock reminded, "What do you know about a blue box, because that's what you were found by. A police telephone box… Don't see many of them nowadays, only in the nineteen sixties- give or take a few years- so, question is, where'd you find it?" Sherlock stated, as he hunched over to look at the Doctor, his eyes stared right into the Doctor's, the Doctor thought it looked like he was seeing _through_ him, not at him. Sherlock looked at the man before him with deep intensity- not wanting to look away- while the man looked back with his pale blue eyes and furrowed eyebrows. Sherlock could see that the Doctor wasn't telling him everything.

There was a loud knock from downstairs, the Doctor blinked at the interruption and looked toward the stairway, Sherlock sighed as he made his way down the stairs toward the front door. He checked his watch quickly before he opened the door, the watch read ten to nine,

"Lestrade." Sherlock said to himself as he grabbed the handle of the door and opened it, he was automatically greeted with a shove to the left, Sherlock barely had time to react as he was shoved into his own door, he looked up at the rude being that pushe- "Donavan? W-"

"Lestrade sent me here…" She interrupted with a huff. The other woman, who Sherlock recognised from the pool (the other convict), had walked into the hall to save getting wet from the rain that was still pouring.

"I see you've brought me a present," Sherlock said sarcastically as he looked at the woman Donavan had brought along. The woman's blonde hair was the first thing to grab his attention. The curls atop her head were teased to look more springy and _alive, _

"Well, I am full of surprises sweetie," the woman comfortably replied to Sherlock with a grin-Sherlock was still looking at the hair before he realised he was spoken to- his eyes brows raised as he recognised what she had said. He quickly recovered with a smile in return and looked back at Donavan,

"Okay, I won't be needing you anymore so-" He quickly said, pointing toward the door that was still left open, the rain still tipping down.

"No sorry, I'm not leaving until the interview is over and done with." She pointed out as she crossed her arms and looked at Sherlock challengingly. Sherlock scoffed and turned around fully to look at her, looking her up and down- identifying every last detail about her within seconds. He gave a puppy dog look mockingly,

"Oh no," he cried sarcastically, "I'm sure Anderson wouldn't like that." Donavan's arms loosened at that and she swayed on her feet, looking down at the floor,

"What are you talking about, freak." She replied, exaggerating the last word. Sherlock smiled to himself, knowing he had her right where he wanted her. He learnt, after countless years of teasing and hurtful comments, that whenever he had said something, anything, to a person to make them feel embarrassed or annoyed they would automatically go to little petty insults instead. He learnt that quick enough.

"There's a burn on your finger suggesting that you burnt it while using the straighteners, but you were rushed due to the fact Lestrade had texted you telling you to send 'a female convict' to me, you tried to do your hair quickly before you gone but you accidentally caught your finger- hence the burn. Which means that you're running late for your date," he spoke quickly then walked over to the open door and leaned against the wood frame. "So, please do us all a favour and leave."

There was silence. Sherlock glanced at the frizzy haired woman through the corner of her eye, guessing from the smirk apparent on her face he could tell that she didn't like Donavan either. Sherlock looked back over to Donavan, who didn't look impressed. She sighed and walked toward him, a stern expression on her face.

Before she stepped outside she stopped and turned back to Sherlock. She put her hand out to him an object placed on top. A key.

"Lestrade wants them back in one piece." She simply said and then walked out into the rain toward her police car; before she stepped in she looked at Sherlock. "By the way, Lestrade doesn't want them in the same room together- said best to keep them independent." Sherlock nodded and then shut the door.

Sherlock paused a minute to look at the key in his hand. It was old and iron- clearly used to unlock handcuffs. He looked up at the convict. She was all very calm he observed- he guessed being arrested wasn't something new to this woman- he clenched the key in his hand harder and then placed it in his pocket, a place he would remember.

He led the way up the stairs, letting the woman go first. Once up the stairs he noticed that the Doctor was talking to John about…. Space cows?

"But they only come out once a month at 7'oclock precisely-" He stopped the conversation as soon as he saw the curly haired woman. Sherlock sensed they had some history.

Sherlock coughed to grab everyone's attention.

"Very well, John will you guide the Doctor somewhere where he won't be able to hear me." He proclaimed. John nodded and sat up from his chair, he placed his notepad and pen back onto the table, and pointed toward the bedroom for the Doctor to go to.

"Right.. I'll just…" John muttered as he walked down the corridor with the Doctor behind him.

Sherlock looked at the woman and offered her a chair, she accepted and sat down, her handcuffs made it difficult for her to get into a comfortable position.

"Here…" Sherlock said, throwing the key onto the sofa behind her. She quickly grabbed for the key and started to unlock the handcuffs without difficulty,

"Thank you, sweetie," she thanked sweetly. The clank of the handcuffs proved Sherlock's theory- she was very familiar with the handcuffs- but why was the question.

"You seem at ease with all of this," Sherlock uttered, sitting back on his own chair as he looked at the woman before her.

"I've been in worse situations," she admitted with a smirk as she massaged her sore wrists. Sherlock didn't feel in any threat with this woman, but he could sense some ability and experience- which made him weary. Sherlock didn't reply and instead just looked at the woman, trying to read her. The woman breathed in and moved from her laid back position,

"Why are we here? You're obviously a clever man and I can tell the Doctor trusts you," Sherlock furrowed his eye brows at that, but River rolled her eyes as if it were obvious. "The fact that you let a highly accused criminal into your home, without handcuffs, and offer him Jammie Dodgers isn't exactly what I'd call non-trustworthy," the woman stated, getting to the point. "So-"

"Four murders, all women aged around mid-twenties have died miraculously from the same fate, all of which have the words… _Blue box_ imprinted on them. And the fact that you and the Doctor just so happen to come crawling in only fifty yards from the crime scene in a big blue police telephone box just hours after the murder had occurred seems very evident to the fact that all the evidence points your way." He rushed out.

"And yet you don't believe we're guilty?" She asked with an arched eyebrow. Sherlock clamped his hands together and leaned back on his chair again,

"Of course not, a man and woman of your ability and brains would be more than capable of succeeding in a murder, not to mention being caught easily on cctv." There was a pause. "Well," Sherlock said as he stood up from his chair, "it was nice talking to you… _River_." The woman looked up at Sherlock astonished- clearly confused as to how he knew her name. "John! You can come in now."

John awkwardly opened the bedroom door and slumbered through the corridor, reaching the living room.

"So?" John sighed as he looked at River and Sherlock.

"So what?" Sherlock asked obliviously.

"Did they kill the victims?"

Sherlock laughed, "No."

"No?"

"No. John think about it, and I mean _reaaally_ think about it. Look at these two," Sherlock pointed to them briefly behind his back- John didn't even realise the Doctor had entered the living room. John then took the time to look at the two convicts, River and the Doctor; they made quite the couple he thought- even if he had only met them for two hours. John decided Sherlock was right, they weren't guilty.

"Well, if it wasn't them then who was it?"

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><p>Thanks for reading. Please review and share your opinion(s)<p> 


	8. Newton's Cradle

_Thank you very much for the reviews. 16 reviews! Thank you very much. This story is not a one-shot or any of the sorts. I'd think of this fic as an actual episode that would appear on telly, so the length is going to be quite large- yes I've got everything planned. The reason it has taken so long for this chapter is because of my exams, and personally they come before this- sorry. But please do enjoy._

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><p>"Sherlock, remind me again why I bought this?" John asked sceptically as he placed the shopping bag on the table in the kitchen, lifting the heavy object from the plastic bag and heaving it over toward the living room.<p>

"To pass time," Sherlock simply stated. He noticed John's eye role, "John, I can't do anything if nobody's being killed? And plus, it's an experiment." He quickly stood up and took the steel object from John hands and rushed to the table. The Doctor also sat near the table, waiting impatiently for the object while River, the woman John hadn't really had a chance to talk to, sat on the sofa reading Sherlock's 'Archaeology on planet Earth' book. John thought then would be the best time to get to talk to her.

Before he even sat down next to her he was greeted with a smirk and wink. Women normally didn't respond to him so… Quickly.. He felt quite vulnerable. Nevertheless, he sat down next to her, his hands on his lap and legs outstretched.

"I'm John… Sherlock's… Assistant I suppose you could say," he greeted himself. He saw the woman look annoyed at the fact she had to stop reading the book but she did anyway- placing it on the leg of the sofa and turning to face him. John gulped, she certainly was a very attractive woman but he soon remembered the fact that she was potentially dangerous, and possibly even a threat.

"Doctor River Song," she addressed with a soft smile. "I see you like your books," she acknowledged as she looked around the room. John almost laughed out loud at that,

"No, no. They're not mine, they're Sherlock's," he corrected. "I could never properly get into a book, I can't even write my own…" He stopped. _Blog_ was what he was going to say before he was side-tracked. He remembered the session with his therapist, 'trust issues' she had said. John couldn't believe how quickly he had adjusted with civilian life- but it was all down to Sherlock. If it hadn't been for him he would still have those nightmares. Before he couldn't even write his own blog and now he was writing down every case and murder inquiry him and Sherlock had done. He never realised before just how much Sherlock had helped him.

"John?" John snapped back to reality. River had her hand placed on top of his and she stared at him intently, a worried face looking over him.

"It's.. It's fine. I'm sorry," he apologised as he shook his head and closed his eyes. "It's jus-"

"You were in the war, weren't you?" She recognized. John looked up at her in surprise; it was only Sherlock that had guessed straight away that he was a soldier. Was he letting his guard down? He saw the pain reflected in River's eyes, as if she too had suffered from such loss and devastation, John felt his throat throb and his stomach ache. He wanted so badly to forget the war, to never be reminded of the death that surrounded him.

"I'm sorry, it's just…" The woman breathed out, "I can sort of _connect_ with you.."

John and River were interrupted when Sherlock and the Doctor both started to babble at the same time.

"Look at it go," the Doctor exclaimed as he pointed to the Newton's Cradle move back and forth on the desk. Sherlock saw John confused expression,

"It's a Newton's Cradle, John." Sherlock informed him as he placed his two hands together and leaned down on the desk, his eyes following the ball's movements.

"Yes, I've seen them before back at Lestrade's office," John recognised as he too watched the balls swing from left to right continuously. Sherlock nodded,

"Newton's cradle is a device that demonstrates conservation of momentum and energy. It's constructed from a series of pendulums. Each pendulum is attached to a frame by two strings of equal length angled away from each other." He explained as he pointed to the string that held the two end metal balls. "This string arrangement restricts the pendulums' movements to the same plane. The behaviour of the pendulum follows from the conservation of momentum and energy only in the case of two pedula. Indeed, if there are pendula.. An additional condition for the observed outcome is that a shock wave has to propagate dispersion free through the chain." He finally finished as he looked up at John, noticing the even more confused expression on his face.

River watched the Doctor who was observing Sherlock closely. His palms closed together on the desk as he looked at the man before him easily explain the physics of a Newton's Cradle- something only _he_ has managed to do before. River laughed to herself lightly as she recognised the puzzled look still on John's face.

"So basically it's just moving balls?" John simplified as he moved back onto the sofa. The Doctor looked accusingly at River when he saw the all know smirk that cropped up on her face.

"No, John. Did you not just listen to a word I said?" Sherlock asked almost offended.

"How long can they last for, Doctor?" River asked, making the Doctor's accusing expression falter and return to a soft smile. He scratched his cheek,

"It depends. Depending on the mass of the balls and the built quality of the cradle it could last for as long as somebody's lifetime." He opposed as he looked at River with an intrigued look. He looked back to the Newton Cradle, "But this one," he added as he licked the metal bar on the side. "Will last for… Ten years, eight days and exactly seven minutes." Sherlock furrowed his eye brows and looked at the Doctor with a disturbed look.

"Tell me again why I had to travel three miles for this," John asked in a gruff tone as he grabbed the cup of coffee that was on his desk. He still needed sleep, desperately.

"An experiment." Sherlock simply answered as he jumped up on his chair and continued to watch the balls.

"What experiment?"

"Just _an_ experiment."

John sighed and grumbled something as he gulped down his coffee. It must have been something toward Sherlock because River certainly found it funny.

"Oh, sweetie you have no idea." She accounted as she looked at John with an 'understanding' sort of look.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and bit into his Jammie dodger.

_**Knock. Knock. **_

John swung the front door open with a tired expression.

"Oh, Lestrade. I thought you weren't coming till later to pick them up?" John asked concerned when he saw Lestrade and another officer stand on the front step soaking wet from the rain. Then John realised. He knew River and the Doctor were still meant to be in cuffs- which they weren't- and they were meant to be in different rooms –again, which they weren't. And Lestrade wanted to walk upstairs and pick them up? He had to stall.

"We had a call come in earlier, another murder." Lestrade huffed sadly. "So, I'm going to have to take them two back for questioning. Where are they?" John paused for a moment, trying to think of what to say until he heard footsteps behind him tumble down the stairs.

"I'm the Doctor, nice to meet you. Again." "The Doctor introduced himself to Lestrade, holding out his hand for the man. John closed his eyes as he knew he couldn't hide _that_. He saw Lestrade expression as soon as he saw the Doctor without cuffs.

"Your-" Lestrade started. "You're not wearing any cuffs." He pointed out. The Doctor looked down at his bare hands and then hid them behind his back quickly. Lestrade looked at John, "I said to keep the cuffs on." He huffed. "Where's the other one?"

Just as he spoke Sherlock and River walked down the steps. That time River in cuffs.

"Ah, Lestrade." Sherlock spoke as he skipped the last few steps. He walked up to the door and stood next to the Doctor. "You can't take them."

Lestrade looked at him puzzled,

"Sherlock. They're _crime suspects_, I can't just let them stay at your house and let them do as they want." He replied, he hated going against Sherlock, he had come to terms with his rudeness and complaints and finally started to realise what an asset to the police force he was.

"Yes, well. They're not guilty. And I have proof."

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><p><em>Dun..Dun..Duuunn. <em>

_So, I did want to watch the England match.. Oh well. Wholock, right? Can't ask for more. Again this was only a filler chapter of what is to came and trust me. It's more devious that Moffat himself-dare I say it. _

_I'd like to give big thanks to.._

All in the Details, AlwaysAndCompletely-Driver, bbrandonmarriott, By Fate's Design, cmartlover, Danielle Jones, Doggy173, Elvaro, ElvishNutcase, FuzzleMuffin, Greyelf, Hatselena Gomez, Hayden-Strife, Ichi Sohma, Idoloni, Jezzi1996, jimthefishisaninnuendo, Keryn Phantom, Kat Fiend, liebedero, Logical Fallacy, Lord Rebecca-sama, LuvLikeNoOther, mastertheif-extordinare, MommyMayI, morinehtar11, neko262012, OnceUponATimeVortex, psyvoebita, R.J. Sawyer Thomas, ratmgrlly, silky0670, thatonePersonWithEars, ticktockspitspot, TooManyAPsEquealsNoLife, turq8, vanumi-victoria and Wonkie for adding this to their story alerts and some of them for adding it to their favourites.

_**I love you guys!**_

_Replies to last chapter:_

_ohthatfangirl:__ Thank you so much, and thank you. I love Sherlock and I love River, I thought they would have got along if they would have met. And here's the next chapter! :D_

_Karyn Phantom:__ Here's your update. Sorry it took sooo long :( _

_Anon:__ thank you very much, I'm glad you like it! And yes, I will continue this story :) _


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